


I don’t believe in god, but I hope there is a heaven

by Katfish_1967



Series: PrUk Oneshots [7]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: APH Rare Pair Week 2018, Angst, M/M, day 4 - History
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 01:42:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16924152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katfish_1967/pseuds/Katfish_1967
Summary: It’s 1947 and Arthur is a wreak at the thought of loosing the one he loves.





	I don’t believe in god, but I hope there is a heaven

Day 4 - history

 

Arthur tried to hide the way his hands shook. His signature was unreadable on the dotted line. Portugal’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing grounding him in reality. He placed his pen down, and turned away as Ivan, the last person to sign the decree, picked up his own. He didn’t hear the clang of the pen hitting the table, or the clearing of the throat next to him. He knew he had to speak, he had to find a way to choke the words out past the lump in his throat and the tightness in his chest. Francis tapped him on the shoulder, making him aware of the eyes on him. He caught Alfred’s gaze from the end of the table and knew he understood the emotions playing across his face. Taking pity on him, Alfred turned to address the other nations in the room, his voice loud and piercing in the silence.

“From this day, the 25th of February 1947, the nation of Prussia will cease to exist. All land will be given to Germany.”

Nobody said anything about the sudden lack of one of the allied nations, or the closing of a door that echoed after the declaration.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

Arthur was tempted to leave, to get on his bike and ride as far away from the stuffy meeting hall as he could. He had lost his tie quickly, barely out of the door before he was pulling the damned thing off. He couldn’t breathe properly and his suit felt like it was suffocating him. He squinted up at the pale winter sun, the loud hustle of London fading to background noise as he weighed the pro’s and cons of leaving now. He wasn’t needed in the next talks, but Clement would talk his ear off for leaving in the middle of peace talks despite the fact he’d technically done all he needed to do when he signed that piece of paper.

He walked over to his bike and swung a leg over, settling in the seat before turning to grab his helmet. Arthur was about to place it on his head when someone came and stood next to him.

“The way you left that meeting, anyone would think you actually cared about me.” Arthur looked up at the voice, smirk evident in the words as the speaker blew out a puff of smoke from his cigarette.

Arthur knew that smirk, he’d seen it enough over the centuries they’d been friends and lovers. It was a smirk that was used to cover up the grief that Gilbert was feeling. He saw it when Fritz died, when Holy Rome faded out of existence, and when Hungary married Austria. Gilbert knew he couldn’t hide how he felt from Arthur, just as Arthur can’t hide how he feels from Gilbert.

“You know I do. You just want me to admit it.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse and the lump in his throat hadn’t lessened like he’d hoped. 

Gilbert saw the pain swirling through Arthur’s eyes. They were his favourite things about Arthur. Even when Arthur was completely blank, nothing more than an impartial mask of a man, his eyes always held a spark of rebellion. Gilbert never met Britannia, he was too busy fighting holy wars, but he expected this was a shared trait from the way Germania used to describe her.

“You caught me.” This time the smile was genuine, not some half assed attempt at hiding his emotions.

Arthur clipped his helmet on and cast a brief glance at Gilbert’s cigarette, noticing it had burned down to the stump during their brief interaction. He turned his attention back to Gilbert and raised an eyebrow at him, waiting.

Gilbert got the hint and threw his leg over the bike, grumbling about Arthur getting the helmet instead of him.

Arthur revved the bike once and took off, laughing at the shocked yells from his passenger and enjoying the way two strong arms found his waist and gripped tightly.

He knew exactly where he would take them, but decided to ignore the questions from Gilbert. He’d find out soon enough.

//\\\//\\\//\\\//\\\

They drove for hours, leaving the busy city behind and traveling down winding country roads. Gilbert had tried asking where he was being taken, but Arthur was stubborn and refused to tell him. It was late afternoon when they came across a dense forest. Arthur turned the bike towards it and sped up, obviously intending to ride through the forest on the small dirt track Gilbert could see.

The forest was alive with the sound of birds and rustling that could only be deer. The forest seemed to be getting denser and denser, until the sunlight could only just peek through the thick canopy of leaves. 

Gilbert was starting to think Arthur had made a wrong turn when suddenly the trees fell away and all that could be seen was shimmering water. Gilbert was off the bike before it had even stopped, eager to take in as much of the view as possible. Arthur cut the engine, stepped off the vehicle, and placed the bike on the grass, unclipping the helmet and throwing it carelessly on the ground near the bike.

He made his way to the shore of the lake, and dipped his hands in the water, letting the magic here soothe his nerves. The magic has always been strongest here, and the faeries that guard this place are the kindest ones Arthur knows. Lady Freya is also a great conversationalist, which is an added bonus for Arthur.

Gilbert caught the unearthly shine in the water around Arthur’s hands and his eyes widened, his brain connecting the dots immediately.

“Is this Lake Avalon?” 

Arthur startled at the question, forgetting for a moment that he had company. He looked up and is met with eyes full of wonder and awe.

“Yes. I come here when my nerves are frayed.” He doesn’t tell Gilbert that he’s the first person Arthur has taken here since showing it to Merlin all those centuries ago. He doesn’t have to. It’s obvious that this place isn’t something Arthur is going to go around telling people about.

Gilbert sits down on the pebble beach and watches the light glint on the surface of the water. He can see pale blue lights whizzing across the lake, and it doesn’t take him long to realise it’s fair folk.

“I take it this place is important to you, considering how relaxed you are here.” 

Arthur nodded, then realised Gilbert couldn’t see him and replied verbally.

“It is. Extremely important. While you were off fighting holy wars and terrorising Europe, I was raising warlocks and knights, and helping the fae with the changing of the courts. I grew more attached to some of them than I should of, but at least one of them is still around to visit.” Arthur seemed to be in a nostalgic mood. Gilbert knew of Arthur’s tendency to form attachments to humans. Every nation forms one at some point. Francis had Jeanne and Gilbert had Fritz, but Arthur had a list two miles long and each one ended in heartbreak. There was Elizabeth and George, Florence and William, Charles and Jane. Each had died and each had left an empty space in Arthur’s heart. 

“You said one still visits. How is that possible?” 

Arthur stood up straight at last and turned to Gilbert.

“His name is Merlin. Like us, he is cursed with immortality, though his serves a purpose. He cannot die until the true king has risen again, and Arthur will not rise unless England is in grave danger. I gave up hope of him rising again during the Hundred Years’ War, but Merlin keeps his faith. He comes by once a month to talk to Arthur. It’s quite sad.”

Arthur speaks about Merlin’s attachment to King Arthur as if it was illogical. It was, there was no doubt about that, but Arthur was quite illogical himself.

The silence between the two stretched on for a while, until Gilbert got tired of it and began telling stories about his days as a Teutonic Knight, and his friendship with someone he referred to as the ‘Templar’. These stories changed into ones of looking after young Germany and fights with Austria. England chimed in occasionally with his side of the story for the battles where they were on opposite sides. Eventually they ended up pondering the afterlife, and what would happen to Gilbert when the negotiations have been finalised and his country ceases to exist. 

England twined their fingers together and looked up at the stars, gathering his words.

“I hope there is a heaven. I’m not a religious man, you know that. But it feels wrong that you would suddenly not be around anymore. I want at least a little hope that you’ll be with me once you go.” Arthur turned his face away, discreetly trying to wipe the tears. Gilbert was silent for a moment before sitting up, pulling his hand from Arthur’s grip.

Arthur watched as Gilbert fiddled with something around his neck before he made a small victory noise. He wrapped something in his fist and held it out to Arthur. Once Arthur’s hands were out and waiting, he opened his fist into Arthur’s open palm. 

Arthur let out a little startled noise at the sight of necklace in his hands. The German cross seemed to shine, even in the pale moonlight. He turned it over in his hands, inspecting it before Gilbert reached out and grabbed it, moving behind Arthur. He placed it around his neck and did it up. 

The necklace felt comfortably heavy on Arthur’s chest, where the chain hung it near his heart. Gilbert gripped Arthur’s chin and forced eye contact between them.

“Now I’ll always be with you, next to your heart.” 

The dam holding back Arthur’s tears came crashing down, and Arthur pulled Gilbert to him, placing their foreheads together as tears trailed down his face. 

“I don’t want you to go. Please stay with me.” It was a whispered plea, a last ditch effort at fighting fate, something that was much more powerful than Arthur.

“I’m sorry Arthur. As powerful as I am, even I can’t fight destiny. If there was a way to, I’m sure you would of figured it out a long time ago.” Gilbert lets his hand make its way into Arthur’s hair. He presses a small kiss against Arthur’s lips, wet and salty with his tears. 

Arthur closes his eyes when they kiss, and he refuses to open them again, hoping that if he ignores it, it will go away. His eyes don’t open when Gilbert pulls away, or when he lays down again, or when he pulls Arthur down next to him. They lay there next to each other for a bit, both contemplating and philosophising. 

Arthur’s eyes remained closed.

“You’ll have to face it eventually, Arthur. Hiding from it will only make the pain that much more unbearable when it happens anyway.”

Arthur doesn’t listen. He squeezes his eyes tighter together, shifts closer to Gilbert, and lays a hand on his heart. As long as it’s beating, everything is fine. As long as it’s beating, Arthur can pretend it’s just another morning after.

Gilbert lets Arthur pretend. He grasps his hand and thinks back to something Arthur said earlier. A thought pops into his head.

‘I hope there’s a heaven as well. How else I am going to make sure he takes care of himself?’


End file.
